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“You’re sleeping here?” I asked when I emerged from the bathroom, having brushed my teeth and scrubbed my ‘fuck me’ makeup off.
It had worked, hadn’t it?
I was well fucked.
Kip was in my bed.
And by the looks of it, he was naked.
I’d seen the man in my bed before. He’d slept in it for a week when his mother was here. But he hadn’t done it shirtless. He’d worn a tight tank and pajama pants. Fuckingpajama pants. And somehow, he worked them. They were always slung so low on his hips that I could see the outline of his Adonis belt and the dark blond hair leading downward.
Not that I was looking then.
I was looking now.
Kip looked fucking great naked in my bed.
Though I probably shouldn’t be thinking that.
“I might,” he said. “When I’m done with you. Which I’m not.”
Though I didn’t think I was able to have another orgasm, my pussy pulsed at his tone, and my feet carried me toward him.
seven
Boundaries
Kip had foundout where I was last night thanks to me.
Rather thanks to me thinking I was being a smart—and mostly petty—bitch by getting myself a credit card connected to his bank account.
The card I’d used to pay for my drink at the bar. And the Uber that got me to the bar.
I hadn’t used much forethought. I also hadn’t considered that Kip would come home, find me gone, and, after calling Nora, check his credit card activity and track me down.
He hadn’t seemed all that interested in my whereabouts prior to his mother’s visit. But even I couldn’t deny it changed things. Having to masquerade as a couple for such an extended period of time, having to sleep in the same fucking bed—it blurred lines that had been drawn in the proverbial sand.
“What was your goal in tracking me down and going into that bar?” I asked him over coffee the next morning.
Coffee in bed. Which Kip made and brought to me.
After he fucked me as soon as I woke up.
I was feeling somewhat agreeable and more alive than I did most mornings.
“This,” Kip said, holding his own coffee cup and staring down at me.
He was fully dressed. Faded jeans. Tee underneath a red flannel. He’d put on his cap as he walked out the door. He usually took it off when he removed his boots at the front door, placing it on the coatrack.
“This?” I repeated, propping myself up in bed but not quite ready to get out of it just yet. I had time.
The sheets fell and exposed my naked breasts. I momentarily thought about covering up my nakedness, but that was closing the barn after the horse had bolted. Kip had seen a fuck of a lot more than just my tits, so I let them enjoy the free air.
His eyes zeroed in on my areolas, his mouth turning to an expression I had already learned was hunger.
Despite the orgasms I’d just had, my pussy tingled with need.
“This,” he repeated, voice hoarse as his gaze returned to mine. “You, naked in bed, freshly fucked by me.”
